


Agape

by uwucraft



Series: Amaranthine [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Amputee Runaan, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regret, Reunions, Runaan is sad and Tinker is literally the best boyfriend in the world, This is really sad y'all I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwucraft/pseuds/uwucraft
Summary: Runaan is freed from the coin and makes his way home.





	1. Claudia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisa_Kay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisa_Kay/gifts).



Claudia and Soren did not receive a warm welcome into Katolis.

The actions of their father, Viren, had put everyone on edge and many were suspicious of the two siblings and their motives. Hadn’t General Amaya assigned Commander Gren to the task of retrieving the princes? What made Viren reassign the mission to his children? Was it lack of faith in the Commander’s abilities or did he have something sinister in mind? Where was Commander Gren anyways?

It was Soren’s idea to tell them the truth. So, they did.

They told the council of their secret missions, given to them by their father. They told them how they failed, how Soren was injured, and they were willing to face the wrath of their father if it meant sparing themselves – both emotionally and physically. They told them they had no idea what Viren’s true plan was, but that whatever it was, they didn’t agree with it.

“We still love our father,” Claudia told them. “But his actions cannot go unpunished. He is a traitor to Katolis and must be dealt with as such.”

The council came to a unanimous agreement that the two siblings were indeed innocent of the crimes of their father. Soren retired to the medical wing to seek further treatment of his injuries, and Claudia was tasked with sorting through Viren’s things.

Opeli asked if they wanted to see him. They said no.

Instead, Claudia decided to search Viren’s study. She made her way to the tower and shut the door behind her, glancing over the room and taking a deep breath. Everything was so overwhelming. It wasn’t every day you found out that your father is a traitor, not to mention possibly a sociopath. Honestly, what kind of person orders the assassination of two innocent kids, even if they are princes? What kind of person orders their own children to carry out such a heinous deed? What kind of person orders their daughter to save an instrument of warfare – which turned out to be one of the gentlest creatures she’d ever encountered – over her own brother, their own son?

In the past there had been many things her father had said and done that had bothered her, but never anything so horrible as to warrant her doubt. This, however, was forcing her to question everything she knew about him.

Claudia had never felt so alone. First her mother, then her father, and for one brief moment she thought she’d lost Soren too, back in the forest with the dragon. That moment often replayed in her head; the sound of his spine breaking – at the time she’d thought it was just a clap of thunder or maybe just his armor hitting the rock – and how desperate his voice was when he begged her to help him, to forget the dragon and the princes and _help him_. Then later, in the hospital, when tears had filled his eyes because he was so, so happy that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore now that he was paralyzed, even though he was so eager to please their father. Claudia’s blood had burned with anger at Viren when she’d heard that. Father or no, no one could or would ever hurt her brother or make him cry, and Viren had done both. When they’d returned to Katolis and heard the news of his betrayal, she couldn’t find it in herself to be surprised, or even upset.

Sighing again, Claudia turned her attention first to the desk nearest to the window. There were papers and books stacked and stuffed everywhere, making the whole room look like a disorganized mess. That wasn’t like her father; he was typically very keen on keeping things neat and orderly. He must have been frantic. Perhaps he was looking for something? Or maybe he was trying to hide something?

The desk was coated in a thin layer of dust that blew up in tufts when she opened the center drawer. She waved it away and began sorting through a series of papers, most of them notes from various books, primarily books about dark magic. That was the one thing they’d ever had in common – dark magic. Beyond that, they were two completely separate persons.

Beneath the papers were keys and pens, as well as a small pouch made of worn gray leather. It was odd because Viren had little need to carry money on his person, and if he did, he would never merely stuff it in a dirty bag and shove it in a drawer. She lifted it by the string, made of black suede, and found it was quite light, maybe only a few coins inside. The string was rough – not soft as suede should be – when she tugged on it, spilling the coins out onto the desk. There were only a few of them, each unique but also very odd. Magical symbols were inscribed on the sides of each gold coin, and they all had different yet eerily realistic faces on them.

There was one in particular that caught her interest. An elf, probably male, with long hair and markings across his nose.

Claudia froze.

She recognized this elf.

He was one of the moonshadow assassins that killed the king all those weeks ago; the one they’d kidnapped, the one Viren had taken to their secret dungeon and interrogated. She’d never asked questions when he’d disappeared.

Yet there he was.

In a coin.

She lifted the coin to her eye, mind racing, horrified, when she thought she saw the elf move.

“Don’t tell me,” she started, staring hard, waiting for any sign of movement.

The elf moved.

He looked at her.

And then he opened his mouth.

And though she couldn’t hear what he said, the message was clear:

“ _Help me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a prologue. The rest of the fic will be from Runaan's POV and will likely be in present tense, like the first part of the series (which will be referenced later, so go read that pls).
> 
> Thank you for reading uwu


	2. Runaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan wakes up and is faced with a crippling realization.

Runaan wakes slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes and glaring at the bright sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window across the room. His entire body feels heavy and sore, mind fuzzy and mouth dry. He blinks away the blurring lines around his vision, grunting at a failed attempt to sit up. Furrowing his brows, he examines his surroundings.

The room is warm and made entirely of stone, with rugs of various shapes and sizes, all of them red, decorating the floor. Dark wooden beams support the ceiling. Cabinets line the walls, filled with books and vials and other sorts of containers. Standing candelabras are dotted around the room. There’s a desk beside the door to his right, mostly clear save for a few papers and a jar of ink. He’s on a small bed – more like a cot – with a white linen blanket draped across the lower half of his body. His boots have been removed and set beside the bed, but otherwise his garb is the same as it was when he was in the prison. He must be in some sort of medical wing in the humans’ castle-

Wait.

The prison.

The coin.

The coin… He isn’t in the coin anymore. He’s out; he’s alive.

He’s free.

The rush of realization falls over him, seizing his chest and blurring his vision again, this time with sharp, stinging tears that threaten to slip down his cheeks. He closes his eyes and takes several shaky breaths, focusing on the feel of his lungs expanding and taking in new air. He tries to sort through his racing thoughts, but it proves futile. How long was he in that wretched place? How much time has passed? What has happened since he’s been gone? Where is the foul man responsible for his imprisonment? And, where is _he_? Why is he in a room with sunlight and warmth rather than darkness and cold?

Why is he free? _How_ is he free?

Runaan’s thoughts are interrupted by the door opening to reveal a bright-eyed girl with raven hair holding a tray with food and water. There’s a strip of white in her hair, tucked almost secretively behind one ear. A wide smile splits her face and causes her eyes to wrinkle.

“You’re finally awake!” she says. Her voice is young but rough, as if she’s been screaming or perhaps talking too loudly too much. She sets the tray on the desk and closes the door with her foot, folding her hands in front of her and grinning down at him.

“I wasn’t sure if or when you’d wake up,” she continues. “You’ve been out a while.”

Runaan can’t find it in himself to respond. His thoughts, though momentarily interrupted, still race around in his mind. He can’t seem to latch on to one single thought; they’re all running around wildly in his head, causing a disturbing sense of confusion he isn’t entirely used to.

‘ _You’ve been out a while_.’ How long is “a while”? He wants to ask but he can’t. He doesn’t know why.

Along with his thoughts bolting around his brain, his entire body aches. His muscles are sore, particularly in his shoulders from the way he’d had to hold them when he was chained up in the prison.

The prison.

Runaan’s thoughts cease. He takes gentle breaths, slowing his mind and sorting through his thoughts, one by one.

The prison. Why was he imprisoned?

The king. He killed the king. Why did he do that?

Thunder. The humans killed the king of the dragons, so he and his men exacted revenge by killing the king of the humans.

His men.

His men are dead.

And he’s alive. But he shouldn’t be. Should he?

He can’t remember anything beyond the searing pain as the mage ripped his soul from his physical form. Beyond that, nothing.

Before that, he recalls darkness, cold, dampness, pain from all over, especially his arm, which-

Which he can’t feel.

He can’t feel his arm.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, tears pricking his eyes as he wills himself to glance at his left arm only to find-

That it isn’t there.

It’s been removed just above where his binding used to be. His binding – the binding he shared with his men, now dead, and he’s alive, but he shouldn’t be, it isn’t fair, it’s not right, why is he alive, why is this happening, why-

“Runaan?”

He yanks his gaze away from the mutilated stub that was once his arm and gazes, wide-eyed, tears rolling down his cheeks, at the girl, who he now recognizes from the prison.

Claudia. That’s what the mage called her.

Claudia’s smile falls completely, and her eyes become very, very sad.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “we couldn’t save your arm. The binding was… It was bad.”

Runaan suddenly finds the silence in his mind – in his heart – deafening. Among the quietness, feelings rather than words emerge. Guilt, sorrow, anger, confusion. He grapples desperately at these, hoping to put them into words, but none suffice to describe the intensity of them.

He failed.

He failed, his men are dead, he’s worthless, he can’t fight, the mission wasn’t even complete, the princes are still alive, and they have the egg with them, and who knows what they’ll do with it, and Rayla is with them, she’s a traitor, he failed her, too, he should be dead-

“Is there anything you need?”

Runaan refocuses his attention on the world around him, using Claudia’s voice as an anchor, strange as that may sound. He focuses on the warmth of tears on his face, the aching in his shoulders, the look of worry and pity that both comforts and angers him in the girl’s eyes. He says nothing, so she turns away.

She leaves the tray and opens the door, glancing back at him once and leaving.

 

 

“Home.”

 

 

Claudia takes a step back, staring at Runaan’s limp figure on the bed, his eyes turned up towards the ceiling, tears rolling freely down the sides of his face. His voice breaks as he speaks, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

“I just want to go home.”

Runaan closes his eyes and cries silently. Claudia watches him for a moment before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

‘ _Home_.’

He isn’t even sure where that is anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are about to whoop my ass so I'm throwing this out into the void before I go off the grid for a week (maybe).
> 
> Also, in case you couldn't tell or were just curious, yes; Runaan is having a panic attack, though a relatively mild one, at least in my experience.


	3. Homebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan prepares to go home.

It’s a whole week before the nurses and doctors can convince a certain angsty moonshadow elf to drag himself out of bed, or at least eat. Claudia checks on Runaan regularly, making sure that he gets enough food and water. She managed to find him a shirt and tunic so he doesn’t traverse the halls shirtless and scare off the ladies, not that he cares. He hasn’t spoken a word to Claudia since their first meeting, though she always seems to have plenty to say. She tells him about everything that has happened since he was “away”, as she puts it.

Viren, Claudia’s father and the mage who imprisoned him, stole the king’s seal and summoned the rulers of the realm to a meeting to ask for reinforcements against a false threat. His request was denied, and the priestess Opeli ordered his arrest for royal property theft and impersonating the king (or something like that). Viren was somehow able to use primal magic to defend himself against a host of guards before he eventually surrendered. Claudia and her brother, Soren, had been away on an unsuccessful mission to retrieve the princes and had returned just after Viren’s arrest. Claudia was tasked with sorting through Viren’s things and she had found the bag of coins that Runaan had been trapped in.

“So, in conclusion, a lot has happened, but I guess that’s the gist of it.” Claudia walks beside Runaan, ready to catch him if he falls, which he has done twice now, much to his frustration and her amusement.

They walk back and forth down the hall, lined with displays of armor and potted plants. The windows are latticed, and the floor is laid with red carpet with gold accents. At the end of the hall on either side hangs a large banner of the same coloring. Several halls lie adjacent to this main one, each leading to different parts of the castle, which is much larger than he expected.

In the week since he’s awoken, Runaan has seen no more than this hall and his room, which is a private room in the medical wing, as he’d suspected. Claudia visits him every day around the same time to walk him along the hall, helping him regain some of his strength.

It isn’t lost on him, however, that he’ll never be the same way he was before.

Learning to accept that he lost his arm has proved more difficult than actually trying to live with it. The overwhelming sense of guilt and failure makes him feel powerless, weak, useless. Many nights he has stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where he went wrong, what he could have done differently to avoid this outcome. What could he have done to spare the lives of four good men? Was it even his fault to begin with? He isn’t sure, but it sure as hell feels like it is.

He feels hopeless, as if nothing matters anymore.

Runaan is an assassin. That’s who he is. Or rather who he was.

Now he doesn’t know.

\---

Exactly a week since he woke up, Runaan is able to walk without Claudia’s constant fussing, and even likes to walk by himself, much to the displeasure of the guards, who have constantly been giving him suspicious looks.

One afternoon, Runaan is gazing out one of the windows in the hall when he hears footsteps behind him. He turns and finds a too-cheery face staring at him with a wide smile.

He quirks a brow at her. He still hasn’t spoken since that day.

Claudia comes to stand beside him and bumps her hip against his thigh.

“I’ve been speaking to Opeli lately,” she begins. Opeli, she’d explained to him, has taken charge in the absence of a proper ruler. She will act as an unofficial regent until the princes, or at least prince Ezran, the birth child of the former king, returns.

Not a single soul in the castle has allowed him to forget that he is responsible for the death of the former king. Not a single one, including himself.

“I managed to convince her that you’re not, like, super evil, you know?” Claudia continues. In any other circumstance, Runaan might have laughed. Instead, he raises his eyebrow farther, urging her to get to the point.

Claudia pouts, clearly dismissed by his lack of reaction. “You’re no fun. Anyways, I talked to Opeli and she’s cleared for a small host of guards to escort you back to Xadia. Just to the border, but no further. Think you can handle that?”

Runaan nods and turns his gaze back to the window. Xadia… So much has happened since he was locked away; he wonders if those changes have affected his homeland.

Having received no response, Claudia turns on her heel and goes to leave. She’s to the end of the hall when Runaan mutters a soft, “Thank you.” He has no idea if she hears him, and if she does, he has no idea how, but at least he said it.

It’s the first thing he’s said in a while.

Left alone to his thoughts, Runaan begins to wonder – and to worry. Returning to Xadia should excite him; he’s going home, after all. But there’s a sense of dread that accompanies the longing. He failed. How can he possibly return home with his head held high and mighty after the events that have occurred? He failed. He failed his men, he failed his people, he failed Rayla, his family, he failed himself. He failed. And he has no idea how on earth he can be expected to return home after what he’s done.

What will he do? What will he say? Where will he go?

Absently, he touches his neck where his necklace used to lay before he’d been forced to use it to conceal him and his companions from humans. That was weeks ago. Weeks since he’d lost something precious to him.

Runaan’s thoughts move to a place in his heart he had refused to go near since his awakening: Tinker.

Tinker.

The love of his now-worthless life.

What will Tinker think of him? How will he react when he sees Runaan? Last they saw each other, Tinker’s eyes were full of love and pride and sorrow. They’d held each other in the moonlight all night long before Runaan’s departure, whispering into each other’s skin promises of love and return. In the morning before he’d left, Tinker had given him the necklace, explained its use, and told him to come back to him.

‘ _Come back to me, love. Come home_.’

It should fill Runaan with hope that he will be able to fulfill that promise, but instead his heart lays heavy in his chest with grief. The man who had promised the world and the stars and so much more was gone, replaced with a crippled man whose misguided actions had cost him everything, including his own will of life.

On the contrary, Runaan is also inclined to believe that it’s selfish of him to think that Tinker would receive him with anything less than open arms. But a large part of him hopes and wishes and prays that Tinker would shut him away. He doesn’t know if he is deserving of such a kind and generous and beautiful person at his side. Tinker is everything Runaan could never be, especially now.

He supposes it shouldn’t matter.

Before he realizes that his thoughts have run him over, the sun has set, replacing itself with the soft glow of the moon. Sighing, he heads back to his room, mind racing with thoughts of what to say, what to do. Because tomorrow, he leaves for Xadia.

Tomorrow, he goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day why yes I am a madman and no it's definitely not 1 AM shut up
> 
> Y'all pray for my man Runaan, he's got it rough (╯_╰)


	4. Homebound II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan prepares to go home (part II).

After a long night of fitful sleep, the morning comes and Runaan prepares to leave for Xadia with a host of guards, as promised by Claudia, who comes to his room with a satchel stocked with a of a set of clothes and other necessary supplies for his journey. He takes the time to admire the shirt she’s given him; the sleeve on his left arm has been cut and tied off just below where the appendage was removed, whereas the sleeve on his right continues down to his wrist. It makes some strange coil in his chest tighten – whether in a good or bad way, he isn’t certain.

But he appreciates the thought.

Once he’s dressed and has gathered his things, Runaan steps out into the hallway where Claudia and a young man slightly taller than her are waiting for him.

“Runaan, this is Soren, Soren this is Runaan,” Claudia introduces. Runaan vaguely recalls hearing Claudia ramble about her brother a few times, but he usually tuned her out whenever she spoke.

Soren’s hair is weird, Runaan notices; his eyebrows are black, the bottom half of his hair is an ashy blonde, and the top half of his hair is a lighter blonde. His face is peppered with bruises and small cuts and scrapes, particularly a yellowing black eye that stands out against one of his blue-gray eyes. The armor he wears is different from that of the guards that have been following him the past week – not exactly fancier, but definitely different. He gives Runaan an unimpressed look.

“Let’s just go,” he says, turning on his heel and making his way down the hall. Claudia sends Runaan an apologetic look as they follow after him.

“He’s had a rough experience with elves,” she explains. “It’s sort of a long story.”

‘ _I don’t care._ ’

Truthfully, Runaan doesn’t care about a lot of things at this point.

In the past, when he was a child, he cared so much about so many things that he could hardly contain himself at times. Day after day, week after week, year after year, he slowly learned to tame his passion and present a more stoic front, as instructed by his teachers, who had always told him that his exuberance would be harmful to his missions. So, he learned to “calm down”, as they’d put it. As a child he’d loved nature, would run wildly through the woods, talk to animals, swim bare in rivers, sleep in trees – the latter of which upset his parents quite a bit. He’d loved music, would visit the theater and just listen with his eyes closed, wishing and hoping and praying that the sounds would never end and that he could listen to them for forever.

But, as his teachers and even his parents taught him, all things must end eventually.

He began training as a child and went on his first mission when he was barely a teen. He remained cheerful and uninhibited until the day came that he was forced to take the life of another. Though he’d been praised and commended, in truth it had taken him weeks before he was able to get a good night’s rest, days before he stopped seeing his victim’s blood coating his hands. It was then that the child had died, and the stoic assassin had taken his place.

It wasn’t until years later, well into his adulthood, when he met Tinker, that bits of that child came back. Tinker was uninhibited and mischievous, just as he’d been, and though many thought they were an odd pair, they were the only ones who knew just how perfect they were for each other.

How perfect they _are_ for each other.

Runaan is going home.

He’ll see Tinker again.

And this time, he’ll be damned if he ever lets him go again.

\---

The rest of the castle isn’t very different from what Runaan had previously seen – stone walls, red carpet, red flags, all with gold accents, and large windows. When they emerge into a courtyard, Runaan has to shield his eyes against the light. The sun hasn’t yet risen above the trees, and though he’s been exposed to natural light this past week, it’s always sort of different when you step outside. It’s less like you’re seeing the light and more like you’re enveloped in it. Claudia glances back at him and shoots him a quizzical look. He shakes his head and they continue on.

Just outside the gate is a host of five guards, each with a horse of their own loaded with the weeks’ worth of supplies they’ll need for the trip to the border. There’s a sixth horse, a tall white mare with dusty gray spots all over her strong body. She turns her head and meets Runaan’s eyes, gazing at him in a too-human way that makes the guards visibly uneasy. A smile threatens to pull at his lips until he remembers his situation and the feeling fades.

Claudia introduces the guards, giving names he doesn’t hear and instantly forgets. They all seem a little uneasy, not that he can necessarily blame them. He killed their king, after all, and now they’re being told to behave like big boys and girls and deliver the brooding elf man to his home where he can live out the rest of his life in peace while their kingdom goes down in flames.

No, he can’t really blame them at all.

Once the introductions are over and orders have been given, Claudia turns back to Runaan.

“These men will take you to the border, but no further, just like we agreed, yeah?”

Runaan nods.

He approaches the white mare, whose eyes never left his, and strokes her muzzle. She’s incredibly beautiful and strong, even for a horse from the human lands. Her breath is hot in his palm when she huffs, scraping her hoof against the ground impatiently. This is not a horse who likes to stand around and wait.

They’ll get along perfectly, then.

The guards move to adjust their gear and climb their mounts. Runaan continues to pet his horse as Claudia straps his supplies to the saddle. Once she’s finished, he nods his thanks to her and mounts. The horse is surprisingly still as he adjusts himself, pausing only for a moment to figure out how in the world he can maintain his balance with only one arm, which he uses to grab the reins.

Claudia smiles up at him.

“I hope you have a good trip,” she says, hands folded behind her back. Soren leans against the wall of the gate, looking bored. His eyes meet Runaan’s for a short moment before he ducks his head and pouts.

‘ _Idiot._ ’

Taking a deep breath, Runaan racks his brain. He can’t just leave without expressing some sort of gratitude. Claudia has done much for him; he owes her his thanks at least.

“Claudia,” he begins. Her eyes go incredibly wide and everyone becomes very still. Runaan’s throat burns slightly from disuse as he speaks.

“I would like to say thank you, though I am not sure if such menial words could suffice to express my gratitude for all you’ve done.” He avoids looking at her, choosing instead to stare at the ground, brows furrowed. “I would also like to say…that I am sorry. I’m sorry for causing you any trouble. I’m sorry for…for the king.”

The silence and tense atmosphere are suffocating, but he continues.

“I am sorry for this war between our people. I know how pointless it is-“ he gives her a pointed look, hoping she understands that he knows about the egg, “-and I pray for peace. I pray that the fighting will end, and that we may live together again.”

The silence continues for a moment too long, until eventually a wide, toothless smile encompasses Claudia’s youthful face. “Me too,” she says simply. The tension still does not fade, but everyone seems to at least breathe a small sigh of relief.

Claudia pats Runaan’s knee and gives him a small wave, stepping back to make room for the two guards at his flank. They make it only a few yards before Claudia’s voice rings out across the bridge.

“Wait!”

He and the guards halt and turn to look at her. She rushes forward with another larger satchel, one Runaan hadn’t noticed, and hands it to him. “You forgot this.”

Curiously, Runaan opens the satchel, and a whoosh of air is ripped from his lungs.

Inside the bag are his two daggers, the ones that connect to form a longbow.

The ones Tinker made for him, years ago.

Tears sting the corners of his eyes as he turns his gaze to Claudia’s.  Words escape him, so he merely nods, hoping she can read his expression enough to see how thankful he is. She smiles at him again and turns away.

Eyes burning, throat raw, and heart heavy, Runaan squeezes his thighs, commanding the mare to move, and begins the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a super quick note, I say "men" a bit when referring to Runaan's assassins or to the palace guards, but I really mean "men and women", or something like that. It's sort of gender-neutral in this case. Like how in Star Wars, "sir" is gender-neutral. 
> 
> Also, I'm not gonna lie, not a lot of thought went into Runaan's backstory... I just sorta slapped it together, so I hope it's sufficient. I HC that Runaan met Tinker after Thunder was slain, so they've likely been together in my story for six years at max, though more than likely only five years. [Thunder was slain 9 years ago; Rayla is 15, so she was 6 when that happened and her parents "died", making Runaan her caretaker; Runaan was already taking care of Rayla when he met Tinker, so 6 years max, though I'll likely make it 5; yes, I'm a gay who can do math, nbd.]
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoy. Next few chapters are gonna be a doozy :)
> 
> Also! I love comments! Good, bad, unnecessary, I love 'em all!!!!! Gimme that sweet, sweet validation pls!!!!! Even if I don't respond, I see u ;)


	5. The Path Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan returns to Xadia.

The journey to the border is awkward every step of the way. It takes them a few days to make it through Katolis Forest, after which they come across a river that they could reasonably cross in a few days, but with the horses they are forced to take the long way around, adding on a couple of extra days of travel.

On the first night, when they were setting up camp, Runaan couldn’t help but notice that the guards waited until he had set up his tent first before setting up theirs so that they could distance themselves from him. They continued to do so every night since.

They still don’t trust him, and they haven’t spoken a word. At least, not to him. They often speak amongst themselves. Sometimes they even laugh.

Throughout the day, they regularly stop for water or to take a break from riding. Though he never says anything, Runaan – being the warrior that he is – finds the frequent breaks unnecessary and annoying. They have a job to do and they’re stopping to rest their legs? He thought they were just as eager to be rid of him as he was to be rid of them.

At lunch and dinner, the guards sit around a rather poorly constructed fire – honestly, who uses pine for a campfire? – while Runaan either sits with his horse or in his tent.

Speaking of the mare, Runaan often thinks of names for her while they ride. Just to keep himself occupied; he probably won’t actually name her, lest he become attached. One afternoon, he’s leaning against her flank, sharing a few apples, when a name comes to him. He looks into her dark eyes and whispers, “Calimorfus?” She stares at him for a few moments before huffing and turning away.

‘ _Not Calimorfus, then_.’

The journey seems unnecessarily long because the humans want to avoid all the towns, so they frequently take back routes that add pointless hours to their trip. Runaan can’t even remember how long ago they left, and a small part of him thinks that the humans are messing with him. They wouldn’t though; Claudia might grant them severe punishments if they even dared.

By the time the grass has turned to stone and the skies grow dark, their provisions are low and they’re all exhausted, but they’ve at last reached the border. Runaan speculates they’ve been traveling for well over two weeks, perhaps even more than that. Their horses are tired, but Runaan’s mare stands strong. He strokes her mane after dismounting. He wishes he could feed her an apple, but they ran out two days ago. He looks into her eyes again. If she were human, she’d likely be cocking a brow at him.

“Valens?” he whispers.

The mare blinks and looks away.

‘ _She didn’t huff - I suppose that’s good. Valens it is_.’

One of the guards – a tall, dark-skinned male – approaches him with a rather sizable satchel in his hands. “We’ll leave you to continue on foot from here,” he says, handing Runaan the satchel. It’s heavy.

“What is this?” Runaan asks. His voice is scratchy from disuse.

The guard itches the back of his head and glances back at the other humans before turning back and looking Runaan in the eye. “We have more than enough provisions to get us home,” he admits quietly. “None of us trust you, so we didn’t want to tell you.”

‘ _At least he’s honest_ ,’ Runaan thinks.

“In that bag’s a week’s worth of food, if you can manage it,” the guard continues. “I snuck a blanket in there and some flint. Don’t waste it all too quick, yeah?”

Runaan nods his thanks, pulling on the satchel, and feeds one of the apples in the bag to Valens as the guard turns on his heel and returns to the other humans.

“Thank you for your strength, friend,” Runaan whispers to the mare, pressing his forehead to hers. She huffs, and he pulls away.

The guards leave without saying a word. Only Valens bothers to look back, but only for a moment before they disappear into the hills.

\---

Runaan travels for about an hour along the border until he finds what he’s looking for: the Moonstone Path. It’s not quite evening yet, however, so he sets up along a thick wall of stone far enough from the lava pit that he doesn’t burn up. He can still feel the warmth of it on his skin, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

While he waits, he lets his thoughts run wild. Briefly he wishes he could have kept the mare, Valens. She was very strong and had a warrior’s attitude. But she wouldn’t fit in in Xadia. Xadian horses are very different, and many may argue that they aren’t horses at all, but they serve the same purpose. They look more like dogs; though, as with horses of the human lands, each subspecies has unique features.

When he was a child, there was an elderly skywing elf that lived on the outskirts of his village. The man cared for a large sum of land in the western part of the region, so the mountains were always in view. He had two very beautiful Xadian horses, a male and a female, each very different looking. The female was sturdy, lower to the ground, though still tall, with thick legs and feet like a bird. She had a mane like a lion and a temperament very similar to Valens’s. The male was slimmer and very elegant looking, with long legs and hooves like a normal horse. He lacked a mane and had a very stoic temperament. The two were very protective of each other, and only the old man was allowed to touch them. But Runaan loved going to see them when his parents allowed him, which wasn’t often.

He never learned of what happened to the pair after the old man died. The lands weren’t fenced, so they probably took off. He hopes they weren’t caught.

Elves aren’t perfect. Like humans, they have rulers, and those rulers can be corrupt. They run businesses and pass laws that are flawed and perhaps even immoral, endangering the natural world around them. There was a law when he was a teen that extended hunting permissions to Xadian horses. For whatever purpose, he never knew, though it was most likely just for pleasure.

Tinker loves talking about such issues. He’s very passionate about the world and all its creatures, including humans. The passion Runaan had for animals as a child never left Tinker when he grew older. They’d stay up late at night after Rayla had gone to sleep and sit in the windowsill, basking the moonlight and talking about anything and everything until one of them fell asleep.

A small smile comes to his face at the memory.

The sound of bubbling lava brings his attention back to the world around him. The moon has risen. Not very high, but enough to illuminate the path across the pit. Runaan grabs the satchel and takes a tentative step onto the first stone. A rune is carved into the rock, glowing brightly in the moonlight. The pit is a few hundred yards wide, and the stones won’t hold forever, only for an extended period, so, with a deep breath, he begins his trek into Xadia.

\---

Whatever higher being designed the world must have been a sick person.

Who the hell puts a desert next to a lava pit? With no water for miles?

He doesn’t know how sunfire elves can handle it.

Runaan’s brow and neck are dripping with sweat, his hair and shirt soaked. His breaths are labored despite his efforts to settle them and his legs are shaking from hunger and exertion. He’s been walking for days, taking only the shortest of breaks. The white desert sand grows increasingly easier to traverse as he moves along. Eventually, he comes across a few sprouts of grass and casts his gaze towards the horizon. He can just barely make out the image of trees in the distance.

‘ _Please don’t be a mirage_ ,’ he prays.

As he walks, the sand hardens and turns to solid terrain. More grass appears, and the trees in the distance come into view. Sighing with relief, he quickens his pace.

He reaches the forest before nightfall and decides to rest, nearly collapsing to the ground and falling asleep as soon as he’d set up a fire – which is frustratingly difficult with only one arm, he finds. He doesn’t bother with dinner.

In the morning, he rises before the sun does, gathers his things, and sets out. The forest stretches on for a few more days. At some point, the leaves begin to turn a darker hue of green the farther he goes. It’s achingly familiar and fills his heart with hope.

Eventually he comes across a river.

Everything now is so, so familiar.

Seeing the trees, hearing the birds, feeling the breeze… All these things bring back such wonderful memories.

He knows where he is.

Just a few steps forward, and he’s in a clearing in a familiar bit of woods.

He stands in the middle of the clearing and closes his eyes. Against the darkness he relives [that day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887784), recalling the sound of Tinker’s voice, his laugh, and the way the golden light fell across his face, illuminating his smile to the point he was almost too beautiful to look at. He remembers how Tinker and Rayla teamed up on him, and a slow smile spreads across his face. He remembers how they fell asleep together, the three of them, in this very clearing. He remembers how full his heart was, how badly he never wanted to let that moment end. Strange how something that happened so many years ago can be relived this vividly in his mind. The memory brings stinging tears to his eyes.

There’s rustling behind him.

Someone gasps.

There’s a faint thumping noise, like something falling to the ground.

The world stills and falls silent.

Runaan doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

To know whose lovely and terribly familiar voice cuts through the hush, trembling and slightly muffled.

 

“ _Runaan?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKay so, uh,,, The plot summary I laid out for this chapter was really short, but I got to tippy tappin on my keyboard and the words came a'flyin and so now it's really long...
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway~ The next chapters will be really sad :)
> 
> (p.s. runaan i-dont-wanna-name-the-horse-in-case-i-get-attached is now an emo baby bc he wont get to see Valens again)  
> (p.p.s. I uploaded this and then realized it was half-finished, so I'm really sorry if anyone got confused...)


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan is finally home.

“ _Runaan_?”

 

Runaan takes a shaky breath and reluctantly opens his eyes. He knows that voice, that sweet, soothing tenor voice. He knows precisely whose face he’ll see once he turns around, whose round amber eyes, deep-colored skin, short, messy, dark hair, and beautifully odd golden markings he’ll see. If he can just turn around… Once he turns around and meets those stunning amber eyes he has missed so much, he’ll be home. He’ll be home and this nightmare of uncertainty and guilt and sorrow can finally start to be over. He can sit in his home with the love of his life and not give a damn about anything else. He can retire and put this life of violence behind him. He wants it so badly the mere thought of it brings tears to his eyes.

Runaan barely manages a look over his shoulder.

The sight makes his knees weak.

Standing on the outskirts of the clearing is Tinker.

Tinker, eyes wide and filled with tears, covering his gaping mouth with one hand. He’s shaking; Runaan can see it even from where he stands.

The short distance between them feels like miles.

They stare at one another, either drinking in the sight or simply gazing in shock – perhaps both.

Runaan can tell from the bags under Tinker’s eyes and how exceptionally messy his hair is that he hasn’t had proper sleep, not that Runaan really has either. Both of their clothes are distraught; neither have changed clothes in days, weeks in Runaan’s case. Runaan’s eyes fall to Tinker’s throat and his breath catches.

Tinker still has on his necklace.

One of the two from a matching set that he made for him and Runaan, that he gave to Runaan just before the mission.

The mission he failed.

Their eyes meet. Tinker’s eyes, if possible, go a bit wider.

“Runaan,” he says so quietly even the wind struggles to hear him, voice quivering and breaking, sounding unsure and even a little bit frightened. A single tear escapes one of his eyes, then another, and another, until he’s sobbing into his hand. Runaan fully turns and strides forward, gently taking Tinker’s face into his hand and pressing their foreheads together, brushing away tears with his thumb.

“I’m here, sunlight,” he whispers, kissing away the tears on the side of Tinker’s face he isn’t able to touch with his missing arm. Tinker begins sobbing harder and throws himself against Runaan, who stumbles back slightly and holds his love as tightly as he can. He cries as well, though quieter, and nuzzles into Tinker’s shoulder.

Tinker’s knees wobble and he slips to the ground, taking Runaan with him. They weep into each other’s shoulders, hands grasping wherever they can to affirm that ‘ _he’s real, he’s real, he’s really here and he’s real_.’

Runaan draws back and brushes away more of Tinker’s tears with his hand. Tinker sniffles and smiles weakly, chest convulsing as more sobs threaten to spill out. Runaan leans in and kisses Tinker’s forehead, then cheeks, and finally – finally, after weeks and weeks – their lips meet. Tinker’s are just as soft as he remembered, bringing more tears to his eyes.

It all feels like a dream.

They’re both at a loss for words, overcome with the amount of thoughts rushing through their minds. They’ve missed each other so, so much; missed their touch, their smell, their taste. It’s overwhelming.

Tinker takes Runaan’s face is his hands and deepens the kiss, running his hands across Runaan’s jaw, down his neck and shoulders. He draws back when he reaches Runaan’s arm. Runaan can’t bring himself to look into Tinker’s eyes as his lover examines the scarred limb.

“What have the humans done to you, my moonlight?”

His voice is barely audible, but there’s a spark of what one might even call fury beneath it. He looks up at Runaan, whose eyes are cast to the ground, avoiding his gaze. Tinker brings a hand up to cup Runaan’s cheek. Runaan sighs, tears slipping down his cheeks, and tilts his head, nestling into Tinker’s hand.

“It’s a long story,” he manages, voice hoarse both from crying and from weeks of little to no use.

Slowly, a bittersweet smile spreads across Tinker’s lips. Runaan wishes he could never stop staring at that smile, at those eyes, glistening with tears. He fears his heart might burst at the sight, but then again it might be worth it.

“We have plenty of time for long stories,” Tinker says, “now that you’re home.”

Home.

He’s home.

Runaan musters a small smile and nods, kissing Tinker again. They press their foreheads together again and breathe in the moment.

He can almost say it’s perfect. Though there’s still so much to be figured out, so much healing that needs to be done, in that moment Runaan feels so at peace despite the tightness in his chest and the weakness in his arm and legs. The sun casts gentle rays across the forest clearing, illuminating them both within beams of light like manifestations of happiness. It brings smiles to both their faces.

Runaan is home. He’s home with his best friend and greatest love in his arms.

There’s still so much to do, but none of that matters now.

He’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted so badly to make this chapter really, really, really good because it's such an important moment, but I feel like I fell a little short of my goal :/ I tried editing it multiple times and I couldn't really "fix" it, so to speak, so this is the end product. I'm not super happy with it, but it's what I've got.
> 
> It's also kinda short oops
> 
> Probably only 2 chapters left? Depends on how long they are and if I need to break them up into parts. We'll see ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Constructive criticism is desperately needed for this chapter so pls comment (╯︵╰,)


	7. Home II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan is finally home (part II).

After what feels like hours of weeping into each other’s arms, Tinker and Runaan finally stand and prepare to face the village. They wipe away remnant tears and stretch their stiff limbs. Tinker hunts down stray fruits that rolled away into the bushes when he dropped his basket earlier. Propping the basket on his hip, he smiles fondly at Runaan, who returns the affection, and takes his hand. They kiss again, just briefly, and make their way to the village.

At sight of Runaan, disheveled and sans one limb, the entire village goes still and silent. Dozens of pairs of eyes bear into him as whispers begin to spread. A strange feeling of unease settles over him. His home does not feel so familiar anymore. He squeezes Tinker’s hand for comfort.

A tall, older moonshadow elf emerges from the gathered crowd and approaches them. He nods tersely at Runaan and stops them, extending his arm in greeting.

“Welcome home, sir,” the elf says.

A hush falls over the crowd, awaiting Runaan’s response. Swallowing the lump in his throat that had begun to form, he lets go of Tinker’s hand to tightly grasp the elf’s forearm, nodding his thanks.

The entirely of the village seems to release a collective sigh.

Most elves continue about their day. Though Runaan is a renowned assassin, he isn’t personally familiar with any of them, save a few professional colleagues, who come to speak with him as soon as the crowd has dispersed. Tinker stands by his side the entire time, holding his hand. At some point a friend of his comes to take the basket he’s been holding before scurrying off with a nervous glance at Runaan.

One elf, an elderly sunfire male with milky white eyes and an off-putting grin, explains to Runaan that the village is currently in mourning for the deaths of the assassins, including him. Preparations for funerals had been underway for several days, though the lack of bodies has made things more difficult.

It is custom in their region to mourn for a week, host a funeral in which the body or bodies of the dead are burned, their ashes spread across the earth or in the river, and then mourn for however long is necessary. Some mourning periods can last up to a year. It typically depends on the social status of the deceased, or, in some cases, how well-liked or well-known they were. In special cases, there is no funeral and no mourning period. These cases involve traitors and criminals, whose bodies are simply buried in the ground where the earth can decide their fate. In the case that there is no body to be handled, for those deserving of funerals, a weapon, usually a spear, is made and stuck into the ground. A ribbon with their name inscribed on it is tied to the blunt end of the spear so that they can be remembered.

The elderly elf points to a building on the main street, where six spears are being made.

Runaan’s heart aches at the sight.

‘ _One of those should be for me_ ,’ he thinks.

‘ _One of those should be for Rayla_.’

Rayla.

He hasn’t thought about her in weeks.

What is there to think about? Regardless of her intentions, she betrayed the mission and betrayed her people. She’s a traitor. She shouldn’t be deserving of a spear in the ground. Her name and face, her entire existence, should be forgotten, as is custom. No one gets special treatment; everyone is equal. Child or no, daughter or no, she is a traitor to her people and does not deserve a proper funeral.

He should tell them, but he can’t.

He just can’t.

Besides Tinker, Rayla is all Runaan has. She may have betrayed him, but he refuses to do the same.

A flurry of questions bring Runaan’s attention back to the group of elves huddled around him. The questions are simple in nature and aren’t asked with any sort of malice or ill-intention, but he can’t help but sink into himself when they ask him about the mission or about his arm.

“Was the mission actually successful?”

“How is it that you alone survived?”

“What exactly happened to your arm?”

“Why were you gone for so long?”

“Why didn’t you come back as soon as it was done?”

“Did the little one, Rayla, make it?”

The questions fly at him all at once, so quickly that he struggles to keep up. Upon hearing Rayla’s name, the crowd falls quiet. Everyone knows how much Rayla means to Runaan. When she was still very young, he would practically growl at anyone that came near her until he’d taught her how to defend herself, which she’d learned very quickly. Even still, he would always ensure that she was within his sights at all times.

Well, almost all.

The host of elves surrounding them was still silently awaiting Runaan’s response. He cast his eyes to the ground, searching for answers, when he heard Tinker’s voice speak up.

“I’m sure there are answers to be given after Runaan has had time to rest and recover,” he says, voice strong and unwavering. “He has been through so much, as we can all imagine.”

Runaan squeezes Tinker’s hand in thanks as he’s pulled through the crowd, eyes still downcast, and they make their way to the back of the village where their house stands.

It’s just as Runaan remembers it: dark gray slats, lighter gray accents, an arched roof, deep turquoise doors, large windows tinted a light blue with swirling lines dividing the panes.

He can only stare.

He never thought he’d see home again.

After the king was killed and he’d slumped on that balcony – after he’d shot that arrow – he knew he wasn’t ever going to see his home again. He’d never see Xadia, never see Tinker or Rayla. In the dungeon, if he wasn’t meditating, what little of his time there that he could remember was spent not in anger or sorrow, but exhaustion, hunger, pain, and grief. ‘ _I am already dead_.’ The human mage was right; it’s a moonshadow elf philosophy of accepting your death so you will not fear death itself, a tactic employed primarily by assassins and soldiers. It’d been scrubbed into his brain from the moment he’d begun his training as a child.

Runaan does not fear death. What he fears is dying without saying goodbye to the person he loves most.

‘ _By the stars, how I’ve missed this place_.’

He only realizes that he’s been staring without moving when Tinker squeezes his hand and gives him a soft smile, gently tugging him along.

The stones beneath his feet are firm, but there’s one just before the first step to the house that’s wobbly, just as he remembers.

The set of double doors are long – taller than him – and heavy, enough so that Tinker struggles a bit to get one of them open, just as he remembers.

The inside of the home is almost exactly as it was when he left, just as he remembers.

The floor, walls, and ceiling are all made of similar colored stone – a varied blend of blues and greens. Directly ahead is a room with a desk and bookshelf to the right, and a large, messy bed to the left. Pillows are strewn in random fashion across the floor, having either been used in pillow fights or just to sit on. To the left is a staircase leading to a small upstairs loft used as Rayla’s room. Beyond that is a small kitchen, and to the right of the kitchen, obscured by the staircase, is a living area, filled with more bookcases and two couches, as well as a fireplace. The entire house is lit by candles sat either in standing candelabras or in sconces along the wall. There are plants everywhere – in pots, on tables, hanging from the ceiling. Runaan knows from memory that the backyard contains a garden filled with all sorts of plants and flowers, as well as a shed where Tinker does his work.

The familiarity of it all makes his chest hurt. He sees Rayla, tiny and dripping water from a bath, screaming her little horns off while being chased by a frantic Tinker holding a towel. He sees the three of them in the bedroom, smacking each other with pillows and feigning death whenever Rayla managed to knock one of them in the knees. He sees Tinker in the kitchen, feeding Rayla scraps while Runaan sits on the couch cleaning his blades. He sees Rayla, not much younger than she is now, huffing and stomping upstairs to her room after Runaan told her she couldn’t go to the theater that night because she had training in the morning. He sees himself sat on the floor against the bed between Tinker’s legs as his hair was braided before the mission.

He sees it all. He remembers it all.

And it hurts.

It hurts because he could have lost all of that.

All of the love, all of the memories, all of the tender, loving, bittersweet moments of his life in this house and this village with two of the most wonderful people, he could have lost that. For a time, it felt like he did, and that was the worst time of his life. It never occurred to him how much he had to lose until it began to slip from his fingers. It was all he could think about during those days, weeks, however long it was in the dungeon, and then in the coin, which he couldn’t remember at all.

Runaan finds himself staring. Staring at the bed, the desk, the window, the floor…everything. And then at nothing.

The silence in the house is overwhelming. It reminds him too much of the dungeon cell – strange and unwelcome – and of a time when he knew nothing but that silence and of his own grief.

He doesn’t know that he’s crying. He doesn’t feel the tears. He doesn’t feel anything, not even when Tinker’s hand leaves his own and cups his face, pressing their foreheads together.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a small sob escapes his chest, and then another, and another until his entire body is shaking and his knees are about to give out beneath him. A tumble of emotions catches up to him – sorrow, relief, regret, grief, pain – and knocks the breath out of him. Tinker takes Runaan by the shoulders and leads him to the bed, sitting them down on the edge and guiding Runaan’s head to Tinker’s shoulder. He hugs Runaan tightly and kisses the top of his head, rubbing circles into his back. Runaan wraps his arm around Tinker’s waist and buries himself deeper into Tinker’s neck, loud sobs racking his chest. Runaan can just barely feel tears dripping onto the top of his head, flowing steadily from Tinker’s own eyes.

Recovering himself, Runaan draws back and runs his thumbs along Tinker’s cheeks, brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I never should have left you, my love,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Tinker reaches up to wipe away some of Runaan’s tears and gives him a pained smile.

“You were doing your duty, Runaan; you were doing what was right for Xadia and for our people.”

Runaan shakes his head, taking Tinker’s hands in his own and laying them in his lap, stroking the backside of Tinker’s hand with his thumb.

“I was wrong,” he admits, staring at their conjoined hands. “We were wrong. We stepped blindly into territory we knew next to nothing about and look how we’ve suffered for it. Four good warriors dead, one missing, and another…” He takes a shaky breath before continuing. “Another completely useless.”

Tinker opens his mouth to say something, but Runaan cuts him off.

“I’ve failed, Tinker. I’ve failed Xadia and my people. I’ve failed you, I’ve failed Rayla, I… I’ve failed. And nothing can atone for that.”

A beat of silence passes. Just as another wave of tears threatens to overwhelm him, Tinker lifts Runaan’s face by the chin and forces them to meet eyes. Tinker’s eyes are stern and serious, lingering tears making them glisten beautifully even in the dim light of the home.

“Mistakes do not equate failure,” Tinker begins, “and you are not defined by the choices you have made. You may have failed your mission, I won’t argue with you on that, but you have not let us down. You never have. You fought admirably, and in a way you have succeeded. You killed the king of Katolis, and you have returned home to us…to me. I don’t see that as a failure.”

Tinker runs his hands over Runaan’s face, through his hair, and over his shoulders, gripping his upper arms and pulling him in for another hug. They both take deep, calming breaths, gathering their thoughts and breathing in each other’s scents.

It’s a good kind of silence, one Runaan doesn’t mind so much. His head has begun to throb from crying, but he isn’t worried about any of that right now.

After a moment, Tinker breaks the silence. He takes a deep breath and pulls back, giving Runaan a hard, almost sad, stare.

“What happened to Rayla.”

It’s not a question, and his voice is so quiet Runaan is almost worried he imagined it.

“It’s a difficult situation,” he starts. Tinker’s gaze does not falter.

“Tell me.”

Sighing, Runaan looks Tinker dead in the eyes and braces himself.

“The first thing that you should know is that the egg of the dragon prince is still alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, hey, I kinda disappeared for a week. Sorry about that - it was spring break and I decided to focus on family time.
> 
> Fun fact: I started this chapter before I left so if the quality gets a little shit halfway through, it's because I took a break. My bad.
> 
> Anyhoo, as an apology, here's an extra long chapter~
> 
> Pretty sure next chapter will be the last. Hope you enjoy! :)


	8. A New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan explains some things and at this point I'm bad at summaries.

“What do you mean the egg is alive?”

Tinker’s amber eyes are wide and disbelieving, mouth slightly agape and skin paler than normal.

“The egg wasn’t destroyed when the humans killed the Dragon King,” Runaan explains. “It was stolen by the high mage of Katolis. Rayla and the human princes discovered it the day we invaded the castle.”

Tinker’s eyes flick back and forth rapidly, thinking. “That’s…” he begins, trailing off. Eventually he brings his eyes back up to Runaan’s, a wide smile encompassing his features. “That’s incredible! That egg could change the war, perhaps even end it!”

Runaan tries to speak, but Tinker continues, gripping his hand tightly in his own.

“If Rayla and these princes can return the egg to the queen,” he pauses, eyes sparkling, “they could put an end to this ceaseless war. Think of it, Runaan.”

Though Tinker’s bright smile is near contagious, a wave of guilt washes over Runaan and he looks away.

“I…wish that I…that _we_ could have seen that before it was too late,” he admits.

Tinker’s grip loosens and his smile falters. “What do you mean?”

“We bound ourselves to our mission and to Xadia. We had a job to do and there was nothing we could do to escape that.” He takes a breath. “When Rayla told me to call off the mission, I told her she’d lost her mind. And when I saw the egg… Stars, Tinker, it was so beautiful… But nevertheless, we were bound, and the King of the Dragons had to be avenged.”

Runaan falls silent and closes his eyes, pushing back tears as the pangs of conscience slam into him once again.

Tinker cups Runaan’s cheek and forces their eyes to meet. His expression is open and unyielding, just as it always has been. The familiarity of it makes Runaan’s chest hurt, and the tears he’s been withholding suddenly come trickling down his face.

When he speaks again, his voice shakes along with his shoulders. “She tried to stop me,” he mumbles. “So, we fought.”

Tinker is silent, but the way he clenches his jaw at Runaan’s words does not go unnoticed.

“As we fought, she was making jokes as she does-” a pained smile “-and I told her… I said… I said I’d kill her and…”

Painful sobs rack his lungs as the memories rush forward. Tinker does nothing, only rubbing his thumb across the back of Runaan’s hand.

He cries for a minute or two until he regains himself enough to continue.

“She kept looking over my shoulder, and I realized that she was only trying to distract me, so I left, and I completed the mission – part of it, anyway. I don’t know what happened to her. In my time as a prisoner, I meditated often, and whenever I thought of her I told myself that I was better off believing that her foolish actions had gotten her killed, and that she had paid the price for her treason. Now I see that it I was who was the fool, and all I can think about is her and if she’s alright and if she is what can I do to make things right? What can I do? What will I say? Will she even let me say it? She’s like a daughter to me; I love her more than I love myself and I can hardly bear to think of what’s she’s been through if she is alive. And I wonder where she is, what she’s done, if she’s taken-”

Tinker interrupts Runaan’s rambling with a sudden and gentle kiss, bringing his hands to his cheeks and swiping away the remaining tears. He brings their foreheads together and they take deep breaths together, an exercise they would perform frequently in the past when Runaan’s mind would wander into dark places as it’s doing now. Tinker has always known how to care for Runaan in these situations. He unfortunately had to conduct these exercises on himself after Runaan, Rayla, and the others had been proclaimed dead and he’d thought his whole world had been shattered. Even his naturally optimistic personality hadn’t been enough to repress the dismal thoughts of those times.

He won’t ever tell Runaan that.

Once Runaan’s breathing has slowed back to normal, Tinker slides to his knees onto the floor in front of him, holding his hand and brushing his lips over the scarred knuckles.

“If Rayla if alive and if she has the egg,” he assures, “she will be on her way to Xadia, if she isn’t already here.”

Runaan nods, eyes burning, and sniffs.

“We can help her, Runaan.”

A soft but not unwelcome silence settles over the house as Runaan thinks. There’s a chance that Rayla could be angry at him – perhaps even hate him – and won’t accept their help. There’s a chance that she isn’t even alive. Stars, what will he do if she’s dead? He can’t bear the thought, not now.

Words don’t come easily to him, so instead he nods again. Tinker smiles brightly, so bright that he’s practically glowing, and Runaan can’t help but stare. It reminds him of the time they met.

Runaan had gotten back from a mission and needed his daggers repaired. He’d had them for quite a while and they were worse for wear, but they worked, and that’s all he cared about. When he arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, there was a dark-skinned elf around his own height standing at the desk rather than the short older elf who’d worked there long enough to have remembered Runaan’s grandparents. The new stranger, whose back was turned, appeared to be a sunfire elf in every way except his markings, which were similar to sunfire elf markings but not entirely the same. Runaan had instantly been fascinated. Biracial elves weren’t extremely common, and he’d never met one before. When the elf had turned and their eyes met, a welcoming smile came over his features, giving him the appearance of glowing (he wasn’t literally glowing, in fact, it’s probably just Runaan’s memories being distorted by his intense love for the man). Runaan had presented his daggers, and the stranger had immediately remarked in disgust how horrible of a condition they were in. He practically threw them in the trash when he saw them. He offered Runaan a temporary set of blades and told him that he would craft a new pair for him. “No Xadian assassin should be using such atrocious things,” he said, and got to work.

Runaan had stopped by the shop daily, partially because he was interested in the crafting process, partially because he wanted to make sure it was a decent blade – “How dare you? My blades are always perfect, thank you very much.” – but mostly because he wanted to see the strange elf man, whose true name he never learned and still does not know to this day. “You can call me Tinker the way everyone else does.” Tinker always made a point to remind Runaan that “you may be big and buff and deadly, and everyone may treat you like you’re so important, but you’re just another elf in my book, buddy.” Runaan had fallen hard for that prickly personality. Tinker never had any patience for people for “puff out their chests and parade around as if they hold some fancy crown on their big heads.” He’d taught Runaan modesty, which he in turn taught to little Rayla, whose head was so big at times it knocked her onto her backside – mostly because Runaan pushed her, but also of her own fault as well.

Runaan visited the shop everyday for the month and a half that it took to forge the blades and craft them to perfection. Later in the process, Tinker had grown more secretive of his plans for the weapons, which made Runaan uneasy, but in those weeks, he had learned to put faith in the elf.

When the blades were finished, Tinker presented them to Runaan in an uncommon fashion.

Typically, when a blacksmith forges a blade for an assassin – or anyone, really – they would call the client to the shop and hand it to them. However, Tinker, who will deny till the day his ashes join the sky that he isn’t a romantic, called Runaan out into a small clearing in the woods on the outskirts of the village. There, he had set up a blanket and a small dinner. They ate while the sun set and watched the stars for a short time before Tinker sat up and handed Runaan a beautifully and expertly crafted bow that could be split into two daggers. In this way, with this sort of presentation, the blade was an offering of relationship, one Runaan readily accepted.

Tinker had glowed that night, too, like he is now as he smiles up at Runaan from his spot on the floor. He surges up and kisses him. They press their foreheads together and each fight back tears.

“For now,” Tinker says, drawing back and gazing lovingly at Runaan, whose heart clenches. “For now, let’s rest. It’ll be a long journey.”

Tinker smiles again, and for the first time in whoever knows how long, Runaan smiles back.

He smiles because he feels safe, because he’s with his love.

Because he’s home.

And he’s never leaving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed! I appreciate you all so much uwu !!!! Please let me know if there's anything I need to fix and I'll hop on that as soon as possible. See ya!!!


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